In the Basement

I don’t seem to have much sense of where I am, what month it is or the current time. I’m doing enough to keep from pissing anyone off, but I am entirely unmotivated to pursue anything. Things had gotten busy in the past couple months. My plans to hang out, get a tan and paint were no where on the calendar. What happened? I am, for better or worse, a dependable hard worker. There was more demand for my time than I had expected. Summer was escaping before it had arrived. I was just becoming aware that Snyder’s shocking tax proposal and its results had taken the wind completely out of my sails. Fear kept me accepting work delaying the break I was increasing my need for.

I had grown accustomed to daily physical demands. My legs and ass had been sore for a solid month. My body felt strong. After a quick burnout on film crews last summer I was pleased to discover I’m not without stamina. The trouble is I work full out or not at all. I never learned pace. 8 hours into a 14 hour crew day I was already toast. I’m not built for crew. I burn too hot too fast. Bummer because I’m good at it and I love being on the set. Thank god for vendor or I’d be out of the biz entirely. I always run hard. It takes an illness, an act of God or an injury to stop me. The torn back muscle was right on time.

Films could be green lighted as early as next Wednesday. I want to be ready, focused, 100% on board. A distinct reliable work pattern has become foreign. A distant memory I’d like to reconstitute. Enough of this all-over-the-place-who-knows-what’s-going-on shit. It’s been strange and unpredictable for a couple years. Throw in a mid-life hormonal recession and you’ve got cuckoo on your hands. Huh? What? Who are you? The timing on this life cycle is perfection. Might as well get all the nut out at once. I am simultaneously grappling with prying my mood out of the basement while bailing/mopping an unprecedented amount of rainfall rapidly flowing from the fireplace wall. This too shall pass isn’t much of a comfort when I know it won’t by tomorrow.

Occasionally I get an undercurrent of happiness. No homestead disasters in a week or so. The St. John’s Wort is working. The weather is cooperating. Clients are either silent or satisfied. I cling to those moments. I know happiness won’t return resembling any variety of happy I’ve previously experienced. This is a big fat hallway with no room to turn around. Incremental windows allow for a temporary fresh sweet breeze before I’m plunged back into the unknown. Scariest ride I’ve been on in a while. Where the hell is the eject button? The good news is it will end. The car will come to a sudden and abrupt stop. The industrial steel safety harness will magically release and I’ll be free to exit with absolutely no fanfare. It’ll just be over. Next week works for me. I think the Universe has other plans.